


Dropped

by Stevieschrodinger



Series: Dropped [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Amputee Bucky Barnes, Blushing Bucky Barnes, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Dates, Frottage, M/M, Meet-Cute, POV Steve Rogers, Pet Names, Protective Steve Rogers, Sassy Bucky Barnes, Shy Bucky Barnes, Sub Bucky Barnes, Virgin bucky barnes, like seriously a lot of blushing, sort of sub drop, steve loves it, sub space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:08:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29118033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stevieschrodinger/pseuds/Stevieschrodinger
Summary: Steve raises an eyebrow, and the kid can’t even look at him, his cheeks are colored with that adorable blush again, and he’s scuffing his sneakers against the gravel of the car park, not even able to look at Steve.“I-I thought I could, maybe, take you to get coffee, if you wanted.  I mean don’t worry it’s probably stupid and I’ll- yeah, don’t worry it was nice to meet-”“I’d really like that, James.”  There’s that shocked grin again.“I- I mean, only if you’re sure, you don’t have to if you don’t-”“You regretting asking me already?”  Steve grins, and James returning shy smile tells Steve he knows he’s being teased.  “What’s your number?  I’ll text you.”
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Dropped [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138061
Comments: 28
Kudos: 290





	Dropped

**Author's Note:**

> This is not Beta'd and I am very tired. All mistakes belong to me and my exhaustion.

Steve was, to his credit, doing his absolute best to listen to the woman in front of him. She was gushing. And blushing. And kept brushing her hair back behind her ear in a manner that definitely could be described as coquettish.

Steve was trying his best to be relaxed, but he’d been asked to attend this...graduation...gala...fundraiser...thing...in full Captain America uniform. Trust us, they said, the kids will love it, they said. It’s hard to be relaxed when you’re dressed for battle, holding a shield in one hand a glass of champagne in the other. There are people everywhere, the room is busy and crowded and loud. Making a concerted effort to not plan how he was going to escape, he tries to slide his attention back to Flirty Woman, whose name he never even caught in the first place. 

This was one of three charity things just today, and honestly, it was hard to keep track of what was for who and what meant what. He was a soldier, thrust into a different time, and he was Not Cut Out For This.

Steve had previously wondered if he could buy Jarvis something. Get something maintained or oiled or something because honestly...how do you show gratitude for an A.I? Steve’s calendar, which amazingly enough, lives in his portable telephone, is completely managed by Jarvis. His speeches are written for him, his clothing choices are managed for him and appear neatly labeled for each event. All he has to do is put on the right thing and get in the back of the right car. Which is great, because despite all the good he’s probably doing at these dinners and charity events and galas and everything else he’s invited to attend and too good to say no to...he’d sort of just like a day off. All of this has been emotionally and mentally draining in a way that punching Nazi’s never was. Punching Nazi's was simple. You knew they were bad. It wasn't hard to work out which side you were on. The future was convoluted and complicated in a way being a soldier in the middle of a war definitely wasn't. Not that he missed the trenches or the dying or the...you know...actual war or anything...just that if you meet a Nazi disguised as a politician, it's not the done thing to punch them. 

Maybe he could ask Jarvis to book him a Day Off. He could sit in his underwear. It sounds blissful. 

Sipping at the champagne and hopefully nodding at the right time, Steve goes back to listening to the conversation that’s still going on behind him. Upon arrival, Steve had realized that the ‘kids that will love’ the captain America Uniform were actually a bunch of eighteen or nineteen something year olds who are the best of the brightest and are getting their own mini graduation gala charity fundraiser thing…because...Steve doesn’t know why. He's just here. Doing as he's been told. 

But it also means that these incredibly intelligent nearly twenty somethings are not even the slightest bit impressed by him. It was hard not to notice the bored eye rolls or the heads that were dipped, blatantly looking at their phones, whilst Steve made his speech. Half way through said speech, he’d finally realized something. These kids were all science and math and engineering and young genius. He was giving a speech that talked about the future and innovation and...this was very clearly Tony’s shtick. He wasn’t here because they'd asked for Captain America. He was here because they'd asked for Tony Stark...and Tony Stark had said no.

Steve spends the rest of his speech mentally retracting all thoughts of gratitude towards Jarvis who is, clearly, in cahoots with the traitor.

When he gets towards the end of the speech he finds he’s revealing that the Stark foundation is making an obscene donation to some foundation that gives research grants to these kids. In retaliation, Steve does not read out the number that appears in the carefully prepared Speech. He quadruples it. He was very aware of the shocked and excited whispers that rippled across the room as he’d waved and exited stage left.

Fuck you Tony, Steve thinks with a huge grin. Tony can afford it, and even if it’s an empty protest, it makes Steve feel a little better for all of ten minutes. 

The conversation going on behind him sucks him in even further.

“Go on Barnes, this is like your one chance. What’s the worst that can happen? He says no? So what, then all you’ll be is the guy who got turned down by Captain Fucking America.” The group laughs. 

Another voice pipes up, “I bet there’s plenty of them, you won’t be alone, you could start a support group.” Another round of laughs.

“You could make badges!” Another gale of sniggering.

“Just shut up you guys,” the voice sounds strained, shy, embarrassed, this must be ‘Barnes’ Steve thinks. “There’s just so many reasons-”

“So? You don’t ask, you don’t get. Just because no ones ever said that he’s gay, no one’s ever said that he isn’t either.” A sigh, “Bucky, if you sack up and go talk to him, I’ll do your turn at the dishes for a month.”

“Yeah go on Barnes, he’ll soon see you’re pretty ARM-less-” there’s an ‘oof’

“Don’t be a cock all your life Brock.” Dishes cuts off Brock, if Steve listens any longer, he’ll have figured them all out. Dishes has obviously turned his attention back to Barnes? Bucky? “Go on Bucky, go say hi to the guy, he looks like he’s about to get eaten alive by whoever that is anyway, she’s practically drooling.”

Dishes is right Steve thinks, and suddenly he wants more than anything for Barnes to ‘sack up’ and come and save him.

There’s a theatrical sigh behind him, Dishes again, Steve’s deciding he really likes Dishes, “Buck, apply your logical mind to this problem, in the grand scheme of things, this is your one and only chance, probably ever, to go over there and get...whatever the fuck it is you want to try and get. You don’t do it now, you’re going to be regretting it for the rest of your life, how often do you think you’re going to be standing in the same room as Captain America?”

Barnes sighs, quiet, “it’s stupid…” a moment of silence, “I don’t want to meet Captain America in the middle of all this...I want to meet Steve Rogers, somewhere he can be himself. I want to know what’s under there, you know? That tiny guy who was so brave he had that serum and got in that machine. I mean, he couldn't have had a clue what the hell would happen. That's wild...anyway, that guy, is the one I want to meet.” And doesn’t that just hit Steve like a tonne of bricks. Any more and Steve’s going to go over and say hi to the kid himself. “And it doesn’t matter if he’s gay or not, either way he’s not gonna want…it's not about that...” Barnes trails off, voice turning low, self deprecation coloring his tone.

There’s a moment of silence before Brock pipes up again, “Christ Barnes, you giant pansy-” cut off by another oof.

“One more Brock and I swear it-” thanks Dishes, Steve thinks. “Bucky, you believed in Santa for ten years, you can believe in yourself for like, thirty seconds. Go!”

Steve snorts, and by the flicker of a frown that passes over the woman's face, he timed that very badly to whatever she was saying. Luckily a presence appears at his elbow, and Steve turns. He doesn’t know Bucky- Barnes-whatever his name is, but from the conversation with his friends, Steve can feel the soft smile already spreading over his face.

“Hi,” Steve says, looking Barnes over. He’s completely swallowed up in his graduation gown, standing as if he’s trying to make himself as small as possible. But he’s not wearing a cap and his soft looking brown hair falls to his shoulders. His shockingly steel grey eyes are looking up at Steve through thick, dark lashes and...the sweetest blush is already coloring the apples of his cheeks.

“Hi,” Barnes whispers back, fiddling nervously with a frill of material around his baggy sleeve. The other sleeve is pinned up, and suddenly Steve realises what Brock meant with his harmless ARM-less pun and honestly, he could go and punch the guy. He bites it back.

Steve turns momentarily to the woman, “thank you so much,” he says, clearly dismissing her, she returns his thanks politely enough before moving away, but a brief twist of her features says she wasn’t happy about it. 

“Think you saved me,” he whispers conspiratorially, moving a little closer, “who do I have to thank?”

Barnes lets out a quick puff of air out of his nose, a surprised chuff, before looking at his feet, then back up. He’s so shy it’s killing Steve, and the almost full head of a height difference makes him feel even more protective. “James,” he finally replies, “James Barnes. But my friends call me Bucky because of my middle name being Buchanan and my sister she couldn’t say it when she was little and…” Jame’s clears his throat and looks at the floor, “sorry I don’t mean to ramble, I’ll, uhm, let you get on with, uhm, whatever you need to do.”

“You go to school here, James?” Steve absolutely cannot let this kid off that easily, he’s pretty sure he overheard something about being asked out. 

Steve wouldn’t be adverse to the idea of at least making a friend, as young as James is, Steve isn’t physically that much older. Plus the kid is adorable.

Steve has a flash of a future in which he comes out publicly as Bi...all he can imagine is a lot of press conferences. He suppresses the wince. 

“I do sir, just not usually this campus.”

“You know the buildings though, is what I mean?”

“I do sir.” Jesus, if this kid calls him Sir one more time he’s gonna become seriously uncomfortable. Luckily the Kevlar doesn’t really bend so easy, meaning nothing will be obvious. A sweet little crease has appeared between James’ eyebrows, clearly confused with Steve’s line of questioning. 

“There’s always press lingering for quotes and interviews after charity things like this...think you can bust me out of here?”

James’ head does come up then, shocked eye contact and then...an excited grin. There are scuffed sneakers in his feet, Steve notices for the first time, not dress shoes. And are those skinny jeans under his gown? “I totally can.”

James is off, moving confidently with Steve in tow, instinctively following James as his smaller frame weaves easily through the room.

Steve allows himself to be lead down some steps off one side of the dais, quickly through some double doors, and he finds himself in some sort of service corridor. Now that he has space and can confidently do so without knocking into anyone, he slaps the shield onto his back.

“Of course it’s magnetized,” James grins, “is it a power source or-” James blushes and looks away, cutting his own excitement dead, “sorry, you’re probably not allowed to tell me.” He curls his right arm over his middle, making himself small again. Whatever briefly came alive in the kid, he shut it down brutally. Steve doesn't like it.

He’s probably right, Steve knows, state secrets and security breaches and Tony Stark's patents- but he forgets all that and goes with honesty. “I don’t have a clue. Tony builds it all I just,” he shrugs, “wear it, I guess. Works the same as a fridge magnet and that’s all I need to know.”

James grins at him as they make their way along the hall, “I’m sure Tony Stark would love to hear you compare his tech to a fridge magnet.”

Steve can’t help the bark of a laugh that escapes him, imagining Tony’s face. “Maybe I’ll hold off, I imagine I’m already in the dog house for upping the grant amount.”

This time James lets out a surprised laugh, “I thought it was a lot, even for the Stark foundation...maybe I’ll get my grant.” Jame’s grins at Steve. “Thank you.”

God it’s so earnest Steve nearly misses a step. They push through some double doors to the outside, and James leads him around the side of the building to a car park marked ‘staff parking’. “This is great, thank you, my driver will be able to find me here,” Steve knows that with his phone in his pocket, Jarvis will have heard him and the car will already be on the way.

“Oh, no worries, it was nice to meet you,” James is back to shy smiles as he backs away a step before starting to turn. Steve holds his breath, searching for something to say when James spins back and – “coffee?”

Steve raises an eyebrow, and the kid can’t even look at him, his cheeks are colored with that adorable blush again, and he’s scuffing his sneakers against the gravel of the car park, not even able to look at Steve.

“I-I thought I could, maybe, take you to get coffee, if you wanted. I mean don’t worry it’s probably stupid and I’ll- yeah, don’t worry it was nice to meet-”

“I’d really like that, James.” There’s that shocked grin again.

“I- I mean, only if you’re sure, you don’t have to if you don’t-”

“You regretting asking me already?” Steve grins, and James returning shy smile tells Steve he knows he’s being teased. “What’s your number? I’ll text you.”

James recites a string of numbers, Steve knows Jarvis will have caught it and it’ll have appeared in his phone when he next looks, and then, “it’s Bucky, like I said, my friends call me Bucky.” Steve ignores the little happy glow in his chest at already being counted as a friend. Being given the gift of Bucky’s nick name.

They both watch as a car pulls up behind Steve, “this is me...but I’ll text you, okay?”

Bucky nods excitedly, and gives Steve a smile that you could probably power a small town with. He gives a tiny cute wave as the car pulls away.

***

Steve Hi Bucky, it’s Steve, so you have my number :) when are we going out for coffee?

Steve drops his phone on the bed and strips out of the penguin suit he had to wear for his final charity thing this evening. It included a seven course meal, which meant barely a spoonful on each plate and after several hours of mingling, Steve is Starving.  
All Steve has to do is throw the suit in the laundry shoot. He’s not sure where it goes, or how it happens, or when the cleaning service even enters his apartment, but all his regular clothes turn back up in his walk in wardrobe, freshly laundered and pressed. He knows Jarvis manages it all, and that’s why he never crosses paths with anyone.

He’d like to say he’s a grown ass man who can take care of all this stuff himself but...what with all the training and meetings and events and...actually being an Avenger...if he did all his own housework and cooking and grocery shopping he’d literally have no time for himself, so he takes the easy way out with it.  
Since the easy way is so very easy.

He stands in a pair of loose sweats in the kitchen and eats peanut butter out of the jar whilst he waits for his take away to appear in the lift.

Takeaway and TV. Hot shower. Bed. Sounds amazing.

The future does have some perks.

When he finally makes it to bed, he notices his phone and sees he has several notifications. A message from Sam about meeting up at the weekend. Nat and Tony teasing each other in the Avengers group chat. And one from Bucky.

Bucky I have a lot of time now school is done for a while, so whenever you want?

“Jarvis, when do I have time to go for coffee with Bucky?”

“Friday afternoon is free, you are also flexible on Saturday.”

Steve Friday afternoon or anytime Saturday?

Bucky 11:00 Saturday? The Daily Grind.

Steve snorts at the name of the coffee place and checks out the location, it’s only a couple of blocks from the tower, so he can get in his early run with Sam, shower, and be back in plenty of time to walk.

Steve See you then. Looking forward to it.

****

“Actually, I’ll have you know I have a date. Well, sort of a date? Okay, I don’t actually know if it’s a date, but I hope it is a date? It’s at eleven, and we’re going for coffee...so could lead to a date, a real date?”

Sam huffs. Then puffs. Steve can’t tell if it’s because of what Steve said, or if it’s because Sam is starting to really sweat. But Sam still grins. “I’m glad to hear it man, time to get out there a little bit. Random hookups are not very becoming of Captain America.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know Sam but...people want the other guy you know? So it’s sort of...never felt right. To date. No one felt right.”

The first person who had felt right was Sam, but Steve would die before admitting that. The friendship that he’d built had been far more worthwhile to Steve.

Sam grunts, acknowledging what Steve said. “So she’s not interested in the good Captain?”

Steve hesitates for a second, not wanting to keep anything from Sam, but also not wanting to get into it. Steve is confident Sam won’t judge but...he wants to keep Bucky to himself for a little longer. Just see if it goes anywhere before he has to reveal that secret to anyone.

“No, I overheard a conversation...definitely wants to take Just Steve to coffee.” Easy enough to word it like that.

“Well good luck then.”

Steve can’t help his grin as he sprints away, shouting “Thanks Sam!”

His hearings just good enough to hear Sam’s snarky, “souped up asshole.”

***

Bucky’s cheeks are a little red from the chill. He’s wearing a hoodie that’s so big it could belong to Steve and that...stirs feelings in Steve that he doesn’t want to examine just yet. Bucky’s leaning against a lamppost, looking at his phone, the left sleeve of the hoodie looks like it’s just been turned inside out, and is inside the top with Bucky’s body.  
His hair is neat and clean and brushed to a shine that catches the sun, and he’s wearing those same skinny jeans and sneakers. Steve allows himself to watch for another minute before he goes over.

“Hey Buck.” He doesn’t know where that comes from, shortening his nickname further, but Bucky smiles up at him, his cheeks coloring a little further, so he guesses it’s okay. Steve’s gone with his tried and tested cap with fake glasses. It seems to work most of the time, and he doesn’t often get spotted. Tony compared him to someone called Clark Kent a few times, Steve had no idea what he meant until he caught up with the movies.

He slides his phone away into his pocket, “I didn’t find a table yet, they have a nice garden out back, didn’t know where you’d prefer.”

Steve follows him in, Bucky holding the door for him with his body, Steve doesn’t interfere. They both order, and Steve tells Bucky to find a seat wherever he wants.

Steve wants to carry the tray without letting onto Bucky that that’s what he’s doing. Bucky doesn’t seem to struggle with anything as yet, but Steve also hasn’t seen him do much either. Bucky gives him that shy smile, a little cheeky, “I thought I was taking you out,” as Steve goes to pay.

“There’s always next time Buck.”

That shy smile again, Bucky looking down as he mouths, amazed, ‘next time’ to himself. It’s so fucking adorable.

Steve carries the tray out and finds Bucky sat in a patch of chilly sun in the coffee garden, his eyes are closed, and he’s angled his whole body into the light. Like a flower, Steve thinks, amused, or maybe a cat. His head leaned back, slender neck on full display for Steve. He can’t help but imagine how nicely his palm would feel resting there, giving a gentle squeeze.

He sets the tray down, a regular coffee for himself, some sort of hazelnut caramel whipped cream monstrosity for Bucky. Also two pastries that Steve had spotted and added at the last minute. He can easily eat them both if Bucky doesn’t want any, his metabolism seemingly always looking for the next meal.

The tray landing gets Bucky’s attention, and he rewards Steve with another happy little grin when Steve plates up the fruity pastry for him too. Steve didn’t want any awkwardness, and didn’t want Bucky to think to much about the Captain America thing, so he has a mental list of questions ready to keep the morning from lulling into any silences.

He comes out swinging, “so what did you want your grant for?”

“Oh...as part of my plan for my thesis I need...uhm...to buy time on a large array radio telescope? There are a couple of other people I can club up with so…funding for the...err...program,” He shrugs with just his right shoulder, picking at his pastry.

“So why do you need that, explain it to me.”

“Well…I’m identifying elements through density so…”

And wow. When Bucky gets going he does not stop. At all. And jeez the kid is excited about his science. Steve tries to keep up, and intermittently asks Bucky to backtrack or simplify something, which Bucky seems thrilled by. Maybe he doesn’t have many people interested enough for him to talk like this, but whatever it is, Bucky glows when he talks about something he loves.

Steve soaks it up. By the time Bucky starts to slow down, the pastrys are long gone and so are the coffees.

“Got time for a walk around the park?”

Bucky enthusiastically agrees, and they walk another block further way from the tower and walk the perimeter of the park. Bucky tells Steve about his education. Silly stories about his friends and flatmates. About his family, his mum and sister, and his cat, Alpine.

Alpine sounds too smart for her own good.

Steve finds he’s genuinely enjoying himself and really, truly doesn’t want this to end. When Bucky declares it’s his turn at a hotdog vendor, Steve does not argue and holds Bucky’s dog for him whilst he deftly rests his wallet on the edge of the cart and wriggles his bank card back into it.

He has a harder look on his face when he takes his food back, and Steve senses he's covering his embarrassment at needing help.

“You don’t have to tell me but...you don’t wear a prosthetic?”

Bucky shakes his head, studying his hotdog while they move to a nearby bench, “it...it didn’t happen that long ago, and you know, insurance and stuff. My education was more important.”  
Not that long ago turns out to be a car accident three years ago that also took Bucky’s father, George.

“That...it’s a terrible thing that happened to you, Bucky.”

Bucky actually smiles sadly into his hotdog, “thank god. If you’d have said ‘I’m sorry’ I might have actually bailed.”

Steve can’t help but snort a laugh, then nearly chokes on a mouthful of hotdog, causing Bucky to break into gales of laughter, “don’t choke Steve, I’d have to put my hot dog down to help...and I’m not gonna.”

Once Steve calms down enough to speak he tells Bucky, “I’ll make sure to schedule my emergencies for when you’re not eating.”

“Damn straight, I’ve got priorities.” This kid, he’s absolutely killing Steve.

Steve’s phone makes a quiet beeping, and he pulls it out to see the time, “sorry Buck, gonna have to call it, I’ve got an interview.”

“Yeah, yeah, no worries. We’ll have to...you know...maybe again...sometime.” That shyness is back in full force, and Steve doesn’t for a second want Bucky to think he didn’t enjoy this. He flicks open his diary thing on his phone.

“How about Wednesday night? Dinner and a movie, maybe?”

“I...I think I’d really like that Steve. No where, you know...fancy though.”

Bucky’s sweet blush is back, and he’s looking down at his scuffed sneakers again, Steve reaches out, slowly, so as not to startle him. Gently taking Bucky’s chin and guiding his face up and round to Steve, Steve leans forward and brushes his lips against Bucky’s cheekbone. Brief enough to be friendly.

When he pulls away, Bucky’s eyes have slid closed and his tongue darts out, wetting his lower lip. Just from that. Steve rubs his thumb across Bucky’s jaw before withdrawing his hand.

“Can’t take you anywhere fancy Buck," Steve whispers to him, "you’ve only got one pair of nice jeans.”

Bucky’s eyes snap open and he makes an indignant noise, Steve starts laughing again as Bucky protests, “I’ll have you know these are my lucky jeans! That’s why I wore them to graduation and for...today...because…”

All the brashness gone, he’s blushing again, realizing what he was going to reveal to Steve. He wanted the luck. For seeing Steve. Steve smiles at him, and it’s fond. This kid.

*****

They text back and forth a lot. Steve finds himself excited when Bucky’s name appears on the screen, and Wednesday night can’t come soon enough. They talk about anything and everything. The weather, what they're doing, jokes and, from Bucky, plenty of Memes. He ribs Steve relentlessly with photo shopped images of Captain America, his shield replaced with everything from sandwiches to kittens and in one image, Iron Man. Steve loves it. He genuinely hasn't had this much fun, or made such an honest connection with anyone outside the team in such a long time that he hungry for it.

He’s picking Bucky up from the flat he shares with his friends, and heading to an earlyish showing of some action flick Bucky wants to see. Then dinner.

Steve made the mistake of going to Tony for recommendations, knowing he’d likely eaten in every half decent and up place in the whole city. Unfortunately Tony’s recommendations ranged from ‘Fancy’ to ‘Twelve month waiting list for anyone not the president or Tony Stark fancy’.

Steve, explaining it was for a date with someone who wasn’t comfortable with fancy, got cut off by Tony. “Sure, sure, I get it. My favorite place, honestly Steve, the food is amazing, they have a room there, private. I use that when I can’t be bothered. Me and Pep went in our jim jams once, use the back entrance. Trust me, no one’ll judge. And super discreet. Jarvis, order them the tasting menu. There you go, no decisions, no worries, just good food and good company.”

Steve’s struck dumb for a moment by the image of Tony in striped PJ’s, nightcap and carpet slippers, in the middle of a fancy restaurant, before he gets what Tony is saying and agrees, “thank you Tony, great idea.”

“It’s what I’m known for Cap.”

It really, really isn’t Steve thinks, but doesn’t say.

Jarvis sorts it all. Steve starts thinking about how to say thanks to an A.I again.

******

When Bucky opens the door to find Steve holding a very large bunch of different colored roses, Steve worries, for a moment, that he’s killed him. His eyes go wide as saucers and his cheeks flame and he…seems to have frozen so completely it doesn’t even look like he’s breathing.

Eventually, Bucky unfreezes and gingerly takes the flowers, delicately hugging them and sniffing at the few individual blooms. He shifts from foot to foot, the blush has died down to the beautiful pale pink Steve loves to see across the apples of his cheeks and Bucky finally, shyly speaks, looking up at Steve through those dark lashes. “Thank you, I- well. No ones ever bought me flowers before.”

“My pleasure Buck.”

“I’ll just,” he lifts the flowers slightly and turns back into he apartment, where Steve hears two other male voices – one of them he’s sure is Dishes, woop and cheer. Bucky reappears, that soft smile still plastered on his face, still too shy to look directly st Steve. Someone in the apartment shouts, “make sure he treats you right Barnes,” before the door clicks shut. Steve's pretty sure it's Dishes. Steve really likes Dishes, and is glad Bucky has him as a friend.

Bucky shakes his head, watching the floor, “sorry about them they-”

“Are absolutely right, you should be treated right Bucky.”

And that blush is back in full force. Bucky looks adorable, a pale washed out pair of skinny jeans, a darker blue cable knit jersey, again at least four sized too big, hanging past mid thigh. The jersey is so big the neck hole hangs off his right shoulder, revealing some collarbone and a perfect line of smooth skin. The left arm is neatly pinned up today. There's a thin strip of black material interrupting the line of Bucky's right shoulder, and it makes Steve think he’s wearing a vest or something under the jumper. Had it been on a woman, or if Steve had only glanced across it, he would have thought it was a bra strap. 

Steve opens the car door for Bucky, and he slides in. That thin strap of material causing Steve to quickly adjust himself in his jeans as makes his way around the back of the car. Taking the long way around to give himself a second. The material looked almost shiny. What the hell does he have on under there? Combined with the jersey which, again, swamps him and makes him look even smaller, Steve already knows the evening is going to be a test of his restraint.

The film is okay, even if Steve hasn’t really been watching it too closely. Some woman needs rescuing, the good guy outfoxes the bad guy. There are explosions. Bucky balances the massive bucket of popcorn on the thigh nearest to Steve, Steve sat on Bucky’s right, so their arms are touching and Steve alternates his time between staring at the shiny black strap and Bucky’s face. Bucky’s engrossed in the movie.

The black strap has a small clear plastic thingy on the back, and beneath that the fabric is doubled over, so the length of the strap is adjustable. If Bucky notices Steve staring, he doesn’t say anything.

Once the popcorn Bucket is empty, Steve moves it from Bucky's lap to the floor, then reaches over for Bucky’s hand. Bucky goes willingly, and they sit with their hands clasped together on Steve’s thigh. A minute later, Bucky’s leans further over the arm rest, and his head is cushioned on Steve’s shoulder. Steve finds he likes that very much, even if he can’t see Bucky’s face or the mysterious strap anymore.

“Uhm...Steve...I’m not dressed for this it’s...fancy I…”

Steve grins, “Trust me, Buck?”

Bucky wriggles in the seat a little, “uhm...Sure?” He asks it like a question. He does not sound sure at all. Steve grins.

They get out of the car, Steve doesn’t offer Bucky help with his seat belt, and Bucky manages everything just fine. They link hands again as they walk around the back of the restaurant, Bucky curiously looking around. Steve rings a doorbell, as per his instructions, and a young lady with bright eyes and long pony tail comes and opens it for them. They follow her into a room set up with only one table and two chairs. She seats them and leaves, informing them that she will be back shortly with drinks.

Steve’s wearing boots, dark wash jeans, and a dark grey button up shirt, left open over a white tee shirt, as advised by Natasha, but now that they are somewhere private, he looses the thick rimmed glasses and the cap, running his fingers through his hair to fix it. When he looks up, he finds that Bucky is watching him avidly.

Caught out, Bucky blushes and goes for a sip of water to cover himself. Steve’s completely smitten.

They chat about the movie over dinner, then about movies they both like. Bucky, as it turns out, really likes Disney movies and gushes about them, Steve hadn’t bothered up until now, but finds it easy to offer to watch some with Bucky. He enthusiastically agrees and then starts debating which one to go for first. He’s swinging between The Emperors New Groove and The Road to Eldorado by the time they start on the selection of tiny desserts that’s been left for them. 

Bucky has studiously not touched a drop of alcohol all evening, despite Steve saying that Bucky’s age doesn’t matter, he can have a glass of wine in the private dining room if he wishes, Bucky still declines. When Steve refills his glass the second time, Bucky’s eyes flick to it for a noticeable amount of time, but says nothing. When Steve refills his glass again with dessert, Bucky’s frowning and then looking away.

“What is it Buck?”

“Nothing. It’s uhm…” He trails off, looking down, nervous again. Steve scoots his chair around the small table, putting his hand under Bucky’s chin, gently encouraging him to look up. Whatever it is, something about the alcohol is distressing Bucky. 

“Baby, if somethings wrong, you need to tell me. No matter what it is, you can always tell me.”

Bucky huffs, but if he has a problem with the pet name, he doesn’t show it.

Bucky swallows, and Steve can feel his jaw working, under his fingertips, his eyes cut across the table to the wine again, “Steve,” he says it gently, like he's the one that will be reprimanded, “you’re driving tonight.”

Oh. That hadn’t even occurred to Steve. “Baby, it doesn’t affect me. My metabolism is enhanced, I couldn’t get drunk even if I wanted to. I’ve tried it.”  
Bucky tried to look away, something about this still bothering him. Steve has a sinking feeling in his gut, “sweetheart, the car crash-?”

Bucky nods his head in Steve’s hand, blinking up at him, “another driver hit us, yeah. Drunk. Took my dad away.”

Steve rubs at Bucky’s cheek, “I won’t drink anymore tonight sweet okay? I won’t drink if I’m driving.”

“Steve you said-”

“I know what I said, but this is an easy thing I can do for you Buck, so I will okay?”

Bucky looks up at Steve, from the palm of his hand, and Steve knows something is forming there in Bucky’s mind. A trust maybe. Or the beginnings of the knowledge that Steve would always take Bucky into consideration. Something is being forged in their gaze, and as Steve leans forward, Bucky makes no effort to lean back.

The waitress comes in, and Bucky does pull back, startled, Steve lets him go reluctantly, a soft smile for his reaction.

Steve moves his chair back, and they finish their desserts quietly, Steve noticing every time Bucky’s gaze flicks up to him from under his lashes, assessing.

They make their way out quietly, and once Bucky has his seat belt settled, Steve sets off. They talk quietly on the short journey, Bucky thanking Steve for the flowers again, and saying again, sounding quietly amazed, that no ones ever bought him flowers before. Steve wants to tell him that he’d get him flowers every day if it’d make him smile, but worries that he’d be coming on a little strong and in a rare moment of self preservation, keeps it to himself.

Steve parks, and Bucky smiles shyly, blushing, looking up through those lashes in a move that’s now going straight to Steve’s dick. If this is Bucky actually just being himself Steve’s gonna be in trouble if he ever actually gets flirty.

Steve reaches across, cupping Bucky’s cheek, drawing them together, “this okay Buck?” He asks softly, and Bucky nods, nuzzling his cheek into Steve's palm for a moment. He so small compared to Steve, he could probably span his hand across half Bucky’s head, and something dark and dirty coils low in Steve’s gut at the thought of their size difference. 

He draws them closer, ghosting his breath across Bucky’s mouth before bringing them together for a chaste, closed mouth kiss. Bucky moves first, releasing and moving slightly, the next kiss landing differently, then again, and again and then Steve is softly drawing Bucky’s lower lip into his mouth and suckling tenderly. Bucky’s panting, his hand comes up to curl in the material of Steve’s shirt, gripping tightly. Steve licks at Bucky's mouth, tilting his head, leading Bucky where he wants. His hand lands on Bucky’s thigh, sliding up, pushing that oversized jersey out of the way, finding bare skin above Bucky's tight jeans.

He rubs a circle with his thumb, feeling perfectly soft smooth skin at Bucky's hip. Bucky makes a whining noise in his throat, and Steve deepens the kiss. He can feel Bucky’s inexperience, guiding Bucky deftly. Bucky’s perfectly pliant, going where Steve leads, allowing his mouth to be dominated, clumsily trying to follow. Steve hopes this obvious inexperience also applies to other things, and that dark thing curls in his gut again at the thought.

He lets his hand slide a little higher, wanting to feel how large his palm will be against Bucky’s narrow ribs, but it stops short. Bucky must feel Steve tense, and they pull back from each other a scant inch, breath still mingling.

Bucky’s face, lips plump and shiny from kissing, pupils blown, cheeks practically flaming. “Bucky...can I feel lace?”

Steve traces it with his fingers, to where it falls just below Bucky’s ribs, a little higher and and Steve can’t help the strangled moan that escaped the back of his throat...the material feels silky, and it’s trimmed in lace.

“Bucky…” Steve’s voice is rough as sandpaper, that heavy darkness uncoiling in his gut. The want heating the inside of his thighs, curling along his hardening cock.

Bucky tilts his head down, “I- I’m sorry...I can...I don’t have to-” he starts trying to pull out of Steve’s grip.

Steve is suddenly hit with the knowledge that he desperately wants to see Bucky wearing nothing but silk and lace. Women's things on a fella had never even occurred to him as a thing he wants. It had never even crossed his radar, never even really occurred to him at all as a thing that even happens. But the thought of Bucky wearing something feminine...soft and sweet for him. Steve’s cock twitches hard in his pants.

“Sweetheart, do you like wearing these things?”

A shy, uncertain nod from Bucky is all he gets in answer.

“Why?” Bucky tries to turn away, Steve tuts at him, pulling his face back by the grip on his jaw. “Not judging sweetheart, not at all, I just want to understand.”

Bucky swallows four times before he finally gets himself together to speak, and every time it clicks loudly in his dry throat, he can’t bring himself to look at Steve, and closes his eyes. “I- I like how it makes...makes me feel. It’s pretty...feels nice. I wanted to feel- wanted to feel like that tonight.”

Steve considers that for a moment, “you wanted to to look pretty for me honey?”

When Bucky opens his eyes, his pupils are massive, and he reflexively licks at his lips before he nods, “yes, sir.” Bucky’s breath is a whisper across Steve’s palm, pure need curling in his gut as he watches Bucky’s tongue make it’s way across his lips again.

Steve sits for a moment, trying to gain control over his thoughts and the tightness in his thighs and abs. He doesn’t want to come in his pants like a teenager. Steve needs to know something, and he rubs soothingly over Bucky's jaw, fingers of his other hand tracing lace and pure, soft skin as he thinks. An idea borne of that darkness sitting heavy in his balls and in his brain, but he knows he can’t not ask.

“Bucky, if I bought you things like that...to wear...would-”

“Oh, yes…” it comes out as a moan, dark and delicious, Bucky's eyes widening for a second, surprised at his own response, maybe his own forthright answer. Steve doesn’t care what it is, but he can’t control hauling Bucky to him, crashing their mouths back together as he lifts Bucky clean over the console, using a hand to wrangle Bucky's slim legs where he wants them. It’s awkward, one of Bucky’s feet catching on something, one knee taking his weight right on Steve’s thigh, painful for a moment, but he gets him there.

He gets him settles, straddling Steve's thighs. His legs spread obscenely wide to make him fit. Bucky's hand is on the back of Steve’s neck, tugging at the short hairs there. Steve pulls him forward, both hands squarely on Bucky’s pert ass cheeks, pulling them together, chest to chest. Bucky fidgeting, unconsciously trying to roll his hips. Steve wriggles down, adjusts them again, gives Bucky his abs to grind against. 

Bucky’s actions are erratic, uncontrolled, he’s making breathy moaning noises that are setting Steve’s blood on fire. He takes the smaller man by the hips, thrilled that his finger tips nearly touch around Bucky’s waist. Stops them from kissing and looks down, Bucky looks tiny in Steve’s hands like this, the bulge clear in the front of his tight jeans. Steve moves his hands, lifts the too big jersey out of the way, wants to see the bulge better. Wants to watch as Bucky rubs it against his abs, the motion rumpling Steve’s white tee shirt.

He holds Bucky's hips again, guiding the movement, giving a rhythm to Bucky’s thrusting, controlling him. Bucky's lost to this, out of control in a way that lights Steve up inside. This is everything. It's probably too fast part of Steve's brain is shouting at him, too fast, too soon, too much for both of them. Steve can't stop himself, can't stop Bucky. Wants this writing boy on top of him more than he wants his next breath. His erection is leaking in his jeans, half swollen and painful, half completely forgotten. Bucky and Bucky's needs are everything in this moment.

“Just like that sweetheart, slowly does it.” Steve can’t resist, leans up to mouth at that slender throat, works a bruise into the skin over Bucky’s pulse. Bucky’s breathy whines fill the car, Steve can feel him getting hotter under his hands, sees a little sweat forming at his hair line. Looks down again, doesn’t want to miss it.

“I love these jeans sweetheart, I’m gonna see it. See the wet patch when you come in your pants for me. Just from this, can you do it for me, just rub off on me baby? Can you?”

Bucky starts whining Steve’s name in among the breathy sighs and moans.

“Yeah you can baby, go on, take what you need, show me.”

Bucky goes totally still for a moment, totally silent, long enough for Steve to wonder what has happened, why he’s stopped, and then Bucky arches under his hands, taught as a bow string, mouth open and eyes closed and a breathy moan of Steve's name and...Steve has to look away from his face to see what he really wants, looks down, wants to see that wet patch spread. Bucky’s hips kick, erratic, aborted little thrusts as he comes from rubbing off on Steve’s abs. 

The wetness spreads, and Steve stares, taking it in, desperate for it. The image of him sucking at the wet material briefly flickers through Steve’s mind. 

Bucky flops forward into Steve's arms, against his chest, obscuring his view, but letting Steve hold him as he settles, gets his breath back. Bucky’s arm curled between them, against Steve’s chest, Steve rubbing at his back, running his fingers through his hair, kissing at the crown of his head.

“So good for me sweetheart. So beautiful. Thank you for giving me that, precious you are.” Steve keeps up his litany of soft praise whilst Bucky comes back slowly. He’s desperately aware that Bucky’s weight has landed back on his cock. Bucky’s pert perfect ass pressing the wet material uncomfortably against the head of his blood hot erection. Steve tolerates it, no intention of pushing Bucky any further after what just happened.

Bucky’s slow to come around and when he finally does, he surprises the hell out of Steve because he giggles. It’s a quiet, soft thing, but definitely a little giggle.

Steve smiles, “you enjoy yourself, Sweetheart?

Bucky nods against his chest, but doesn’t answer, he feels the smaller man rearrange himself against his chest and looks down. Bucky has two of his own fingers in his mouth. Steve has only seen behavior even remotely like this once before. And realises now that Bucky’s other behaviors have all coalesced into this. 

Steve knows he’s going to have to go and do some reading.

That one other person had been able to explain that she’d sometimes go spacey during sex, and could take time to come back after. Steve had just thought she’d liked it rough, and given her what she wanted, a hand at her throat, telling her what to do, but had worried a little when she’d clung to him, napping afterward, making unhappy noises and not answering Steve if he tried to ask questions or move away. Had vaguely described what someone ‘leading’ her could occasionally do. She’d flicked her fingers, using terms like ‘dominant’ and ‘submissive’ to mean things that had never applied to her. She’d never ‘gotten into it’. Whatever ‘it’ was, she was dismissive of it. Just a thing that happened sometimes after an unexpectedly good fuck. A fuck she could loose herself in. 

Steve gently pulls Bucky’s fingers from his mouth, simply curious to see what he would do as much as anything, and Bucky whimpers pitifully and tries to get them back. Steve replaces them with two of his own. Bucky's tongue explores them for a a few seconds, before he settles again with a sigh and begins suckling gently. He plays with one of Steve’s shirt buttons with his now free hand.

Steve sits there, his erection not going anywhere thanks to Bucky’s warm weight and Bucky’s little noises and Bucky’s hot wet mouth.

That dark thing creeps up Steve’s chest. Loving the fact that in this moment, Bucky is pliant, helpless in his arms. Steve could do anything, anything he wanted to Bucky, and Bucky wouldn’t even fight it. The responsibility that comes with it lights a fire in Steve. The knowledge that whilst he’s like this, he’s Steve’s totally, Steve’s to care for. Steve’s.

Steve wants this again. And he wants it from Bucky. Like this. Knowing that in this moment, he’s Bucky’s everything too.

It’s probably no more than five minutes all told. But it’s long enough for Steve to think a lot of thoughts and feel a lot of feelings. Swinging from the darkness of pure control back to the light of being a caregiver. Bucky stirs softly in his arms, sitting up gently, blushing down at himself. Smacking his lips together softly, tired eyes and mussed up hair. Wet patch going cold on his jeans. Beautiful.

“Give me your keys honey,” Bucky obediently pulls out his wallet and hands it to Steve. For a moment Steve thinks Bucky’s so addled he hasn’t understood, but after a second of investigation he finds a single loose key in the zipped up section. 

“No,” it’s so sudden Steve doesn’t know what to make of it, Bucky struggles with keeping himself upright and simultaneously taking his wallet back from Steve, but this seems to have woken him up a little.

“I can...manage. I’m okay now Steve. Just tired.”

Steve knows he must look doubtful, but Bucky’s face is flaming now, he wriggles, uncomfortable, his ass bumping into Steve’s bulge and he goes up on his knees to avoid it, “sorry, sorry, sorry.” Steve sees the moment Bucky fully comprehends the wet patch on the front of his jeans and breaths out a disgusted sounding whisper, “oh, no.” He fumbles his jersey back down from where it was rucked up around his hips, desperately pulling it down to cover the stain.

He goes for the door handle, movements jerky and panicked, getting it open as Steve gets hold of him, preventing him from face planting straight off Steve’s lap and onto the street.

“Buck, you gotta take a minute, breath baby,” Steve smooths Bucky’s side with one hand, fingers grabbing the top of the car door through the gap with the other, keeping his cadence even and calm, like trying to settle a spooked animal. “Everything is fine sweetheart, you’re here with me, it’s okay, deep breaths. I’ll help you get out of the car in a minute but you gotta breath with me.”

Bucky obeys, but Steve gets the impression he’s only doing it so that Steve lets him out of the car and not actually to calm down.

“Tell me what’s wrong baby?”

“I don’t – I don’t know...I’ve never, you know. Never done anything with anyone before and then...I don’t know everything felt so great but I went somewhere...went like, to the place...god it sounds stupid. Floaty. Like there was a space behind my eyes and it was so good, so calm but...I couldn’t do anything and now I don’t know…” Bucky’s words come faster and faster, his breathing picking up, “was that no good, you’re still...you didn’t- and I don’t know what-” he hiccoughs then, near tears.

Steve doesn’t give him a choice, just hauls him against his chest, “Baby, I thought you hadn’t, and we moved a bit fast okay, that was my fault, and I won’t let it happen again until you’re ready. That was a lot, I know, but it was perfect honey. You were perfect for me. Do you hear me? I’ll never lie to you. It was beautiful to watch you, thank you baby…”

Steve carries on another litany of praise, rubbing at Bucky’s sides and back, soothing him. Eventually Bucky’s breathing evens. This reaction has well and truly killed Steve’s erection, and the wet patch is grating, but he pays it no mind, knowing that Bucky must be much more uncomfortable. He can feel sleight stutters in Bucky’s breathing, and hears a little sniffle, he realises Bucky is crying. 

“You want to spend the night with me sweetheart?”

He feels Bucky tense under his hands, “not like that, no more until you’re ready, I promise, just to have me there, so you’re not alone.”

Slowly Bucky sits up again, his eyes red and a wet patch left on Steve's shirt. Steve knows it’s wrong to think it, but the darkness that had retreated to a tiny presence at the back of Steve’s mind whispers that Bucky is beautiful right now. His lashes dark and clumped together with tears, damp at the corner of his puffy red eyes.

Steve packs it away as best he can.

“Pete and Ned are home, I won’t be alone but...keep your phone on?”

“Of course sweetheart.”

“I think, I need to sleep, that was...a lot.”

Steve helps him out of the car, Bucky wobbles like a baby fawn and Steve stays close as he walks to the front door. Bucky laughs, but it’s a sad sound, self deprecating, “first time doing anything and I go all weird on you Steve, I’m really sorry. If you don’t want to see-”

“Stop it baby, it was perfect, and you weren’t weird sweetheart...I’m going to go and do a little reading but...I think I know what happened.”

“Oh.”

They’re standing at the front door now, “I’ll text you tomorrow, and we can figure out when next to see each other, because I do want to see you again, and we can talk about this baby okay?”

Bucky gives Steve a flaky nod, and Steve wraps him up in another hug, pure comfort. Steve lets him go, hoping that his friends are awake and he really does have someone to look after him. Hoping that he’s not making a terrible mistake by letting him out of his sight because something is desperately clawing at Steve’s gut the second the door clicks shut.

Steve has to drag himself away. The clawing sensation insisting that Bucky is his to protect. That he could break in, watch over him, no one needs know. That he could wait here, right on the doorstep all night, standing guard. Ridiculous thoughts.

Steve goes home, and he hates it.


End file.
